


Extraordinary

by sunflower_beatles



Category: McLennon - Fandom, The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Beatles - Freeform, Cavern Club, Early sixties, Fluff, Gay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:06:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_beatles/pseuds/sunflower_beatles
Summary: Paul McCartney and John Lennon, bandmates, have been secretly hooking up for a couple months. Fellow band mate George Harrison is not pleased.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	Extraordinary

**Author's Note:**

> Before anyone yells at me yes I know the “Mary Julia” story is fake. It’s just so cute though.
> 
> I wrote most of this about two years ago and I just rediscovered it today and finished it. Also sorry for not posting anything for over a year lol, life got crazy. Okay enjoy.

*John’s POV*

The stink of the Liverpool docks barges into my nostrils. No matter how long I’ve lived here, I’ll never get used to that stench. The older people here rarely will notice a smile passing them. Us younger people keep this place alive. Paul thinks they’re just busy, I think it’s the exposure to all that stink.

Paul walks ahead of me, nodding at the people who walk by, never getting a smile back, aside from mine. 

I watch his slender legs, hugged by tight dark pants, move back and forth while he walks. I’ve always enjoyed watching people walk, though I don’t know why. I guess I find comfort in the simplicity of it versus an automobile.

Paul leads the way to our lonely corner of the park and flops down in the grass under a tree. I sit next to him and slide my arm around his body. We come out here where no one can see us, where we can be free.

“John, I-” Paul begins, but I take the sound out of his pretty mouth with a hard kiss. His hand rests on my hip.

I pull away, my spit on his mouth, and whisper heavily, “No talking, remember?” He nods and the faintest smile on his cheeks, the tiniest bite of his lip, makes my chest thrill and I push him down with a kiss.

Our days are filled with this now, sneaking off after school together. I guess it started just after our first “big break” as a band, a couple of months ago, when we began performing at the Cavern. Our first gig there was nothing short of magical; blasting out tunes in front of our largest crowd yet gave its fair share of nerves, but the butterflies in my stomach arose from jamming with Paul more than stage anxiety. Watching him while he lays down a beat on his bass is a healing method of sorts. In fact, I think, looking at Macca’s dark hair streaked back with product and his skin and eyes shining with sweat and music, I think that was when I first felt the warmth envelope my chest. 

And just after the show was done, he’d kissed me up against the wall in the Cavern’s back alley. And I’d kissed him back.

After that it was like a lightning storm between us. Sparks flew. No one else noticed, of course, because we have to keep it a secret, but that makes it all the more electric. 

When we’re alone, we don’t talk. Both of us find it better if we simply exist together. We haven’t talked about anything that’s happened between us, and we prefer it that way. No defining of our relationship, no rules. Just us, floating in space.

Today is Friday, which means pubbing and drinking with Paul and George. Around George we have to be extra sneaky, though, because the bastard is exceptional at uncovering secrets. But typically by the end of the night we split off from him and enjoy our own drunken time together.

An hour after we got there Paul leads us back to town. Again I watch his body morph as he strides. 

We meet George at the bar in one of our favorite pubs, a block away from the park. He’s already bought a round for us, and we’re onto the next in ten minutes. 

“So,” George says, slamming his glass down on the counter. “What’s new, lads?”

“Uh, not very much, Hari,” Paul says, swallowing his drink, “just trying to survive this last year of bloody schooling.”

“Heh, yeah, aren’t we all,” I smirk. I’m starting to feel the liquor and looking at Paul getting sloppier is starting to make my fingers tingle.

“Yeah, been meaning to ask, where have you guys been sodding off to every day after school?”

George’s question nearly makes my heart stop, and I can tell Paul has the same issue, but we play it off. 

“We just head over to the park or one of our houses to play and write songs,” Paul says cooly, saving my life. “What about you, George?”

If George noticed anything he doesn’t show. “I head right to my bed for a long nap.” We all laugh and my heart starts pumping again.

*Paul’s POV*

John’s absolutely wasted.

I like this version of him just as much as any other, though. Almost more.

He leans on me and moans as I practically carry him to the park a block away from the pub. As soon as we reach the grass, he collapses and vomits. I rub his back while he heaves.

He wipes his mouth and I help him onto a bench. I slide closer to him, shoulders touching. He stares up at the sky, his eyes lazy. I watch as his mouth opens and closes and wait for his words.

“Look, Paul,” he says at last, pointing up at the star-littered sky. “See that star? The real bright one?”

I follow his finger and locate the star. “Yes, John.”

“That star is named Mary Julia and it’s my star that my mother dedicated to me years ago.” He lays his head back on the bench. “But from now on it will be yours too, if ye want. Every time ye will look at it in any situation, any moment, ye will know that I'm near to ye and laughing about how queer we are. I will always be there, I promise, I will look at ye from Mary Julia. And even the contrary because it's our star, just ours, a star that belongs to two idiots that strum and that every night lie on a bench full of alcohol.”

For a moment I’m silent, quite flabbergasted at his words. But as I stared up at Mary Julia, the night sky spinning from the liquor in my veins, I decide I won’t ever forget what he said.

John looks over at me and breaks out into laughter. “Oh, Paul, ye pansy, ye should see the look on yer face! It’s adorable!” He leans his head on my shoulder and exhales deeply. “Thank you, Macca.”

“What for?” I inquire, the heat from his body making me crave him.

“For being there, I s’pose. For being my friend. For being more than my friend, actually.” I hear the smirk in his voice without seeing it. “For letting me vomit in this park nearly every night and for holding onto my secrets and for loving me so, so damn good.”

Ripples of lust scream through my body. “It’s the least I can do, really.”

His hand fumbled absentmindedly over the fabric of my shirt.

“Do you wanna head back home now, Johnny boy?” I find it hard to form the words. I start to stand up but John’s grabbed hold of my belt.

“Oh, Paul, let me kiss ye, just once!” He giggles and puckers his lips. 

“Oh, no way, not till you’ve washed up. You’ve just vomited, for God’s sake.” I pry his fingers off my belt (unfortunately) and pull him up. “C’mon, put your arm around me, you bastard. Let’s head home. Right, lean on me. Let’s walk, now.”

-

Arriving back at my family’s house after a drunken night out is no easy task. Mike is an astonishingly light sleeper and Dad keeps a poker next to his bed in case of intruders. And, being drunk, we aren’t exactly quiet.

I unlatch the gate and practically carry John into the house, keeping our footsteps as light as possible. In the kitchen John belches especially loud, followed by laughter, and I clap my hand over his mouth. Somehow we make it up the stairs without failure and I quietly close the door. 

John collapses onto my unmade bed and snuggles up with my pillows. His glasses skew on his face as he watches me cross the room and remove my shoes. “Alright, then, Johnny, shoes off the bed, now,” I say, and he kicks them off. I tug off my shirt and socks and flop onto the bed next to him. His eyes are heavy and I can tell he’s fighting off the urge to sleep. 

“Johnny boy, I love you,” I say, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. “Tomorrow is a new day and then our star, Mary Julia, will rise again. Sleep tight, love.” I kiss his eyes shut and within seconds he’s out. I watch him for a few moments and then wrap my arms around his beautiful body and I, too, surrender to sleep.

-

*George’s POV*

Early the next morning I walk to Paul’s house to get him up for rehearsals. His dad lets me in when I knock and says Paul got home pretty late but it’s about time he got up anyway, so he sends me up to wake up.

I push open his bedroom door and it creaks slightly. In the bed, I see Paul, sprawled out and tangled in the covers. I’m about to nudge his shoulder when I realize there’s another person in the bed with him, almost entirely obscured by the sheets. I figure it’s a random bird he’s picked up after the pub, so I go through with waking him up.

His doe eyes struggle open against the sunlight pouring into the room. When he focuses on me he gets a scared sort of look in his face and quickly shakes the bird lying next to him. A head of auburn hair rises up and-

“John?”

“Wha… George? Bloody hell, mate, it’s what, seven? Scram! My head hurts.” John tosses the blanket over his head and lies down again.

Paul steps out of bed and pulls on a shirt while I try to put together the pieces of what I’m seeing. He must’ve seen my gears turning because he says, “John’s was too far of a walk last night, mate, we just totally crashed. Nothing went on, you idiot. I’m not a queer.” His smile seems too quick but, then again, things like this have happened before. 

“I believe you, Macca,” I say. “Well, get him up and meet me downstairs. I’ve a new idea for a tune.”

-

A FEW WEEKS LATER

*George’s POV*

I’m beginning to wonder if there’s something going on between John and Paul. I hear them being a bit flirty sometimes and they always seem to be attached at the hip. I even once noticed a hickey John had and teased him about letting some bird suck on his neck like a vampire and he got angry at me. He never does that. 

It all just seems so plausible. 

And it makes me jealous because I can’t blame John for letting Paul suck his neck like a vampire…

-

*John’s POV*

Minutes before we’re scheduled to go on at the Cavern, I have Paul pinned against the dressing room wall and we’re locked at the mouth. It’s very exciting to kiss him in such a public space. It makes for a really energetic gig afterwards.

“Yer extraordinary, Paulie,” I say, breathing in his scent. He smiles and kisses me harder.

The door behind us opens and we spin around and see George standing there with his mouth hanging open. My heart stops and time seems to freeze.

“I knew it,” he says slowly. “God, I knew it. How long?”

We’re silent. 

“HOW LONG?” I’ve never seen him so upset.

Paul clears his throat and stands up straight. “Just a couple months, George, I-” 

“A couple months, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Um, I’m sorry Geo, we just didn’t know how you’d react,” Paul squeaked.

George tries to form more words but his eyes well up and he turns, the door slamming behind him. I look at Paul in shock, and then we run after him. 

We find him in the alley behind the Cavern, crying silently and kicking a can around the dirt. Paul, being the maternal one, steps closer. “George?”

He glares up from under his fringe and tears spill from his eyes. 

“George, c’mon, what’s wrong?”

“You know I fancied you, Paul.” The words echo through the alley like a shotgun blast. We stand in silence and then George lunges at Paul and kisses him. Paul stumbles against the wall and my vision goes red and suddenly I have George pinned by the throat on the dirty ground, and he’s struggling to choke out an apology. Paul grips my jacket and pulls me off, and I watch as he sputters and coughs. He rises to his feet after a moment and looks at me with a hurt in his eyes like a wounded animal. Paul steps between us and smiles awkwardly.

“Lads, we have to be on in a minute. Let’s just go play and try to forget about all this, alright?”

George and I glare at each other for another few moments, and then he wipes his eyes and brushes himself off and heads inside.

On stage, it takes a few verses of “She Loves You” to get ourselves into the swing of things. I look over at George during the solo and he’s going all out, completely in the zone and so far down in the music. Paul and I watch as he nails the chords and when he lifts his head he’s smiling. A few songs later, he’s back to his normal self and I feel happiness like never before.


End file.
